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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24893620">Shopping Trips</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Custardo/pseuds/Custardo'>Custardo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Learning to Know Each Other [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grocery Shopping, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, very mild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:41:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24893620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Custardo/pseuds/Custardo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Arcade is feeling down so Boone does a nice thing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Craig Boone/Arcade Gannon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Learning to Know Each Other [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His back was his favorite part. Didn't really get to see it much. Yeah, he was always behind Arcade when the Courier ordered them to trek the sands and roads, but he never got to see it bare much. The tattered lab coat really didn't do it justice, hiding broad shoulders, little freckled moles and perfect unscarred skin. How the bastard didn't have a single mark in his mid-30s was a mystery. Boone sure had plenty and he was nearly a decade younger. "Lifestyle choices." Arcade said to him once. More like luck.</p><p> </p><p>"Can hear you thinking. Stop it." After a pause, Boone added "Ruining my work." Arcade always liked it when shit had reasons, made him listen better.</p><p> </p><p>An over dramatic sigh was the response he got in return, but the body beneath sank a bit further into the mattress thankfully. Now was about the time the doc got snarky and shot something like "I didn't know you were a mind reader, Craig." But after a few more presses of muscle, and not even another sigh broke, Boone knew something was up that was stopping Arcade from relaxing on the rare amount of down time they got.</p><p>Rough hands halted their movements, pausing just under the two twin freckles low down his neck. Always just covered by a shirt's collar. Arcade didn't even notice, cheek pressed to the starched pillow case, eyes shut and breathing steady. Some would say he looked peaceful, but not everyone was as perceptive as Craig Boone. He waited a few more breaths, thinking on how to deal with Arcade when he got like this, he hadn't quite cracked it yet but he was slowly figuring it out. Gotta be methodical, piece at a time; like putting your gun back together. Allowing a small smile to slip through his usual mask as he thought, since Arcade wasn't looking. The doctor probably wouldn't find it very funny being likened to his rifle.</p><p> </p><p>Boone, ever choosing the path of silence when possible, shifted down the bed, lying face to face with his best friend. Blond eyelashes fluttered open, revealing pale green eyes looking just over the sniper's shoulders before quickly focusing to make eye contact. Neither had their usual eyewear on and it was... nice. Strange but nice.</p><p>"Why did you stop?" The doctor's voice a touch insecure, he didn't even make a joke this time. Boone catching sight of a nervous bob of his Adam's apple after he finished.</p><p>Arcade preferred the language of touch, and Boone was thankful for it, since he didn't usually have the right words at the best of times. So a tanned broad hand, attempting to be far more gentle than it usually was, came up to stroke Arcade's curls above his ear. <em>Hm, needed a trim.</em></p><p>"Don't say it's getting too long, I'm starting to think you want to keep cutting it till we match." Mind reader. The glint wasn't completely gone from the doc's eyes, so that was good, but it also meant he was hiding behind sarcasm and jokes. But that was Arcade Gannon's nature. Self described deflector and self-deprecator, whatever that meant.</p><p> </p><p>Boone ignored him, and kept stroking, moving further down to his ear lobe. "What you thinkin' of?" Voice low and maybe just as insecure as Arcade's was. He never liked talking about feelings, made him feel like a woman. But he could get over it for the sake of Arcade.</p><p> </p><p>Arcade let a soft sigh pass through his lips. "Well, when there's a benevolent maniacal dictator obsessed with ancient Rome on your doorstep, it does tend to make a man a tad uneasy." A joking air to his tone, however both men knew it to be nothing less than the truth. But considering how easy Arcade gave the answer, and how the shield of sarcasm had shot up fast as a bullet, it had the sniper a healthy amount of skeptical. Boone paused his ministrations before moving further to cup the back of his skull, not pulling just holding. Stomping down the urge to bury into a crook of neck and shoulder. It was always hard to look Arcade in the eyes sometimes. Wasn't his fault, maybe Boone was just faulty or something.</p><p>But a topic change wasn't off the table. Maybe he could catch the doc off guard for once. "Your hair's nice." Pulling as gentle as he knew how on the fine hairs at the nape of Arcade's neck.</p><p>Arcade huffed a laugh that implied he didn't quite believe what he was hearing, and took the coward's move of looking away and fiddling with invisible fluff on the blanket. A technique Boone was familiar with and knew all too well.  But he also knew Arcade would think on it later, scratching at the back of his neck and letting a gentle smile grace his features whilst sewing up a hole in one of his socks, or waiting on the Courier as the idiot searched every desk drawer in a building. Maybe even later when Boone inevitably fell asleep first.</p><p> </p><p>The hand slipped away, Boone moving to lie on his back and stretch his sore muscles. Gotta give the doc a few seconds, then move in again, don't push too hard or you're only gonna push him away completely. After his stretching, he let his arms fall on his stomach, turning to see what Arcade was up to now.</p><p>Still fiddling with the blanket, but Arcade's eyes flicked to hands, arms, lips then Boone's again before hurrying back to study the bed sheets once more.</p><p>Quiet. Wasn't angry. If Arcade was angry you knew about it, the Courier learned that one the hard way, more than a few times. He was just a sad non-Arcade type of quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Without a word, Boone grabbed Arcade's hand, suggesting he move completely and follow where he was being dragged along to. It was a bit clumsy but eventually the doc fell on his chest with a sigh, wrapping a hand around Boone's thick waist. After a few rise and falls of the sniper's chest, Arcade whispered "I'm not sure what's up, honestly. Maybe it's just everything." Sometimes that was the answer too, didn't always need a concrete reason to feel a certain way, not that Boone didn't have his reasons to feel like that. But Arcade didn't. Practically perfect. Not counting the times he let drinks go moldy in his 'lab' around the corner of the beds.</p><p>Doesn't mean he couldn't try and make it better though. "Don't got advice for you, but I can make you-" A scrunch of his nose came to the sniper's face, racking his brain to remember just what Arcade's favorite drink was called. "Uh..."</p><p> </p><p>"Coffee? At this time of night?" Arcade suggested unhelpfully, with what sounded like a smile on his lips.</p><p> </p><p>"No, uh, what's it called?" Boone scratched his nose and continued staring at the yellowed popcorn ceiling. "The tea."</p><p> </p><p>Arcade, jumping up far quicker than someone down in the dumps usually did, was already sitting on the edge of the bed and looking expectantly at the still-lying Boone. "We have some?"</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh, shit.</em> "If we don't I'll head to Mick and Ralph's."</p><p> </p><p>A sheepish expression came to Arcade, head tilted down, green eyes peering under pale lashes. Fully expecting Boone to fulfill that promise and not feign hurting feet to get out of going. Not that Boone would, but he would probably think about it.</p><p> </p><p>Boone stared back.</p><p> </p><p>Arcade didn't move, but he did dramatically bat his lashes once more.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine. I'll go get it if you lie the fuck back down." Straining his neck to look for where his sunglasses were this time, never staying in the spot he left them in, somehow. Not on the bedside table, goddamn it.</p><p>Arcade was more than used to Boone and his unique behaviors so the harsh wording didn't shock him. Hell, he probably even liked it, always being around doctors and scientists speaking in riddles and old quotes from books nobody cared about anymore, must get pretty tiring.  Falling back with his arms above his head horizontal on the bed, Arcade was wearing a grin. "I told you we'd make a gentleman out of you." Smile softening and looking gentle and loving up at his partner's back. Boone instead busy searching the room for his sunglasses, having already swiped his beret off the side.</p><p> </p><p>"It's Datunara by the way."</p><p> </p><p>Boone grunted, opening a wardrobe door.</p><p> </p><p>"You weren't going to say "oh you know that thing my boyfriend really likes?" where you?"</p><p> </p><p><em>Boyfriend.</em> Boone was glad he didn't upset Arcade anymore by the way his face cringed. Didn't say it or even like to think the term, always gave him an itch, but Arcade was a braver man. He closed the door on the edge of too quickly, not spying what he was searching for. Turning around to see Arcade propped up on one elbow holding lost glasses.</p><p> </p><p>Boone took them, appreciating how their finger's grazed, and slipped them on. It was night out, but Arcade didn't tease him. Not like he used to. They understood each other better now. Everything turning a tint orange and darker, while Arcade fell back on the bed with an oomf sound, gentle smile still going strong. "Under the pillow." He explained, relaxing on the covers. At least he wasn't as gloomy now.</p><p>Figures. "Thanks." Boone stood for a moment, leaning down for a barely-there kiss before hurrying out the door and slamming it behind him.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The rattle of pool balls crashing into each other sounded from one of the rooms, Cassidy laughing whilst Veronica's voice grew higher and higher, excited about something or other. They were nice girls, happy to let Arcade and Boone have the room for a few hours until they all inevitably had to share the two beds - whilst the Courier got the master suite to himself. A scowl played across Boone's face as he pressed the elevator button. Idiot slept in a tiny crawled up ball too, when he did sleep, didn't even need all that space.</p><p> </p><p>The elevator's gears or whatever it was that controlled it, screeched a little bit and drew all the attention Boone didn't want. Cass poking her head out the door, pool cue in hand and a pout on her lips. "Hey! Where you runnin', off too?"</p><p> </p><p>"Shopping."</p><p> </p><p>A glee and a twinkle in her eye, the same that Arcade had just gotten earlier, made her stand a bit straighter. A sing song tone to her country drawl. "What ya gettin'?" <em>Not booze.</em></p><p> </p><p>The elevator dinged and opened its doors, "Stuff." Boone answered in a monotone, not looking back until he was fully inside.</p><p> </p><p>This brought a scrunch to her nose. "Ew." Before ducking back inside to her game, shouting that Veronica had moved the balls when she wasn't looking.</p><p>Pressing the bottom button, now long since lost its markings with all the fingers it encountered now the place had gotten busier, Boone leaned against one of the golden rails. Watching a mirror of himself stare back, under the dying bulb. <em>Needed to find someone to change that before it went completely.</em></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The broken sections of road crumbled under his boots, swinging his rifle down as he reached Freeside. Was always filled with junkies ready to jump anyone, no matter if you had a sniper rifle and them just a tiny knife and the high of jet.</p><p>The King's music playing soft in the background. <em>Might put the radio on when I get back</em>. Give Arcade the comfort of sound without him having to ramble while trying to drink at the same time. Not that it wouldn't be funny to see him try.</p><p> </p><p>A crier broke through his thoughts. "Stop by Mick &amp; Ralph's for all your shopping needs, sir!" Their kid shouting at his usual spot on the corner, even at the late hour.</p><p> </p><p>Boone frowned, they really make their kid stand all by himself, even at night? "Shouldn't you be in bed, kid?"</p><p> </p><p>"How else will people find out about Mick and Ralph's! We have stuff we're not even allowed to sell, you know!" A giant smile, with teeth showing, well, what teeth he had, beaming from the kid, not even looking cold despite the rags he was wearing.</p><p> </p><p>Boone ignored him and kept walking, always made him feel a special type of sadness seeing kids like that. Probably over thinking it, kid wasn't that young and probably liked having a job. Gotta grow up fast in the Mojave, after all.</p><p> </p><p>The ground had turned into gravel now, crunching louder than the road had. He pushed his glasses up for a second or two, before letting them fall back down. Junkies must be asleep on a broken couch or pile of bricks somewhere. Depends where they fell when their body had enough.</p><p>The glowing sign of the store came into view, and Boone quickened his pace, pleased to get the mission over and done with. Get the stupid plant, let Arcade make his stupid tea, tell the girls not to bother them, ignore whatever they said, then head back to the bedroom and go from there.<br/>
Sounded like a nice night, those were happening more often.</p><p> </p><p>He swung his rifle back over his shoulder. The bell sounding as he pulled the freezing handle, feeling the rush of warmth of the shop whilst Ralph felt the cold by the looks of it. Shivering as he dropped his magazine to the counter, before fixing Boone a grin much like the one he received from his son earlier.</p><p>"Courier's friend! What can I do you for?" Boone opened his mouth to speak but Ralph kept going, too excited at seeing potential caps come walk in. "If you're looking for guns-"</p><p> </p><p>"No." The store owner looked slightly taken aback but didn't lose his charisma smile. "You got any more of that plant? From the tribe up north?" Well it was more north-east but Ralph was already heading to a dark corner. Grabbing something from a storage container, so he didn't need to talk anymore. He shifted on his feet, still stood at the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>Ralph spoke, still obscured in the dark. "Those caravans have been having some trouble lately, you want two? Maybe a special discount on three?" Hope rising in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>Boone wasn't going to tell Arcade that, would probably ruin his whole night the dramatic bastard. "Two." Definitely couldn't afford three even with a vague 'special discount'.</p><p> </p><p>Ralph, however, was not so eager for Boone to leave, walking back just to sit in his chair with the plants resting on top of his open magazine.</p><p>Boone refrained from showing too much frustration, best not to piss off the person who decided how much you had to pay for something. Walking the few steps over to the counter and looking expectantly at the shop owner.</p><p> </p><p>"These for that Follower fella? He tends to buy these. You're usually with him and the annoying guy, aren't you?" Grin still standing as he fished for conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Boone pursed his lips, nodding, looking at Ralph's upside down magazine. Avoiding knowing eyes and Mick cleaning guns in the background, who wasn't paying attention in the slightest. Wonder what they talked about.</p><p> </p><p>Ralph chuckled as he reached for a bag, noticing his customer hadn't brought one for himself. "That'll be 85 caps."</p><p>Nice excuse for the high price. With an exchange of goods and caps, Boone turned to head out, when Ralph asked for him to "Wish that Follower a good night!" Boone replied back with a "Sure." Both knowing full well he wasn't going to follow through with it.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The walk back always felt shorter, Boone was thankful for that, and felt a bit more relaxed watching the crier kid run back home. Bare feet hitting the ground whilst shouting some mish-mash greeting and goodbye at the same time as they passed one another. </p><p>Another King's song played now, too muffled to make out the lyrics, though. Didn't mean he didn't take the time to appreciate it. Feeling just a bit disappointed as he got too far away to hear it anymore, instead listening to the gravel crunch turn into road again.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>If Boone jammed the elevator's button a bit harder than usual, he blamed it on the fact his legs were tired, not that he was eager to see Arcade again after less than half an hour walk. Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck as the doors opened quickly, well quick for such ancient mechanics, he stepped inside and hit, hopefully, the final button for tonight. Leaning against the rail and worrying the bag's fraying strap between his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Before the doors even fully opened, Boone slid out, heading to the kitchen as he heard Arcade's voice in the chorus going on in the lounge. Knowing the doctor would be listening out for his return.</p><p>Boiled water. He knew enough to know that was necessary and went through the motions. Grab a pot, turn the tap, be amazed at a place that has running water, get the cooker working with a match, and place pot on the burner. Finally, turn back around to see Arcade leaning against the door frame, wearing one of Boone's t-shirts now. They smiled at each other, Boone losing his first as he nodded to the bags on the table, despite Arcade probably already having seen them, even without his glasses.</p><p> </p><p>Bare feet padded along the carpet as the doctor rescued the roots from the plastic confines, seeming more than pleased that Boone had bought two. Large ones at that, not that he picked. "What have you done, Craig?" A suspicious glare pointed in said man's direction.</p><p> </p><p>"Huh?"</p><p> </p><p>Arcade rolled his eyes, putting one of the plants in a cupboard whilst its friend was placed on the chopping block. "I'm joking. You're just being especially..." <em>don't say nice</em> "like a gentleman." A little up-turn to his lips as he finished, daring a quick glance at said gentleman as he grabbed a knife.</p><p> </p><p>Boone didn't know what to say to that, lips forming a thin line as he watched Arcade for a few moments. Then heading back to the bedroom to take off his defenses. The chopping sound and humming fading as he left the kitchen, feeling the same sadness he felt when he couldn't hear the King's song anymore.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arcade and Boone never quite had the 'honeymoon' phase or maybe it just wasn't over yet.</p><p>With Carla he did though. Felt like he could breathe for the first time, but it went away quick, what with everyone not trusting her, Manny for not getting what he wanted, and then when Bitter Springs did what it did, <em>he</em> did what it did, even the news of Carla's pregnancy didn't do much. He was looking forward to having a kid though, thought it might fix something at the time. Now? Maybe it was probably the biggest punishment you could give a new life. Making them live in a place like this.</p><p>Arcade was different than Carla. Couldn't have kids, obviously. But he gave Boone more love than he was worth and was a heck of a lot more patient. But it didn't feel right comparing them like that. <br/>Carla had a wicked temper and knew what she wanted. Claiming she didn't care what Novac's people thought, but when she thought he wasn't due home yet, he'd see her cry like the whole world was gonna come crashing down any moment. Boone would just close the door and pretended he didn't see it. </p><p> </p><p>Time had passed now. He wasn't the man he was before. Certainly not the boy he was when he was younger either, underfed in a family with too many siblings to count, and even more graves outside from past generations. He didn't want to end up as another one of those mounds of dirt in a sorry patch of soil, so he hoofed it to California.</p><p>Now here Craig Boone was, even after he'd heard his father say all sorts of stuff about boys who messed with boys, and girls who never took a liking to men, watching Arcade in his shirt, sipping on homemade tea with lips that he'd kissed. Hair messy, crossed legged and resting against the headboard next to Boone. Probably thinking something that would make God question his own sense of self, something profound with a bunch of words Boone probably hadn't even heard of, never mind know how to spell.</p><p>Maybe it wasn't the best idea he'd ever had to put the radio on. Arcade still being quiet, bar from the occasional too loud-sip. The song was nice, but the doc's voice was nicer.</p><p>Better than being in his own head. "You good?" It meant more than just a simple question, not as mundane as the usual "How are you?" someone said when they couldn't be bothered to think of anything else to say but were still longing for human contact and socialization, and he knew Arcade would read into it.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm enjoying my tea." He said so matter-of-factly, knowing that wasn't what Boone was asking at all. Playing a game in the way he does, always with words.</p><p> </p><p>"And?" Boone choosing to play into it, instead of turning over and going to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Arcade turned to put the cup down, on top of the notepad he always kept there for whatever reason. Maybe his mind ran a mile a minute in the night too, maybe writing helped him. Not that Boone could try it with how he couldn't spell for shit. Words never his fort-whatever. He was good with his eyes though, noticing shit. Seeing the back of Arcade's hair especially well-mussed and sticking out in awkward angles, much to Boone's pleasure. He thought on it after all.</p><p>"And..." Arcade faced him now, elbow on the pillow supporting his head, messing his white-blond hairs further. "my <em>boyfriend</em>" poking Boone on the nose "was very <em>nice</em>" another poke "to go and retrieve the ingredients for it." Finishing with the flourish of a raised eyebrow. </p><p>So Boone didn't hide his troubles or inner demons that well. Arcade probably saw what he'd had for breakfast and if he used a coaster or not in the way he tied his boot laces. A little bit of shame came over him, he knew it was just teasing, showing Boone it wasn't that big of a deal, trying to make him feel better in that way of his. Didn't stop him from thinking he wasn't right for Arcade. Probably paled a lot in comparison to some of the other old flames he'd talked about that night they got drunk for the first time together. Maybe in the future, Arcade would be sitting with someone new, someone smarter with barely a splodge on their history and Arcade would laugh about an ex-NCR sniper he'd messed around with who couldn't even spell the place he was born.</p><p> </p><p>Boone scratched his nose, turning his head back to stare at the ceiling but Arcade's head popped into view, head lit up like an angel with the dull bulb behind him.  Annoying bastard. "What?" Voice coming out a touch shy of bitter.</p><p>"Oh, nothing." But Arcade didn't budge. His eyes were soft, with little wrinkles at the corners, pale lashes feathering over his green eyes, a little bit of stubble coming through since he didn't shave today. And worst of all, looking at Boone like he was something precious, even after finding out everything. Arcade still wanted to know more, like he was a puzzle or something.</p><p>But Boone didn't know much about the doctor. Yeah, he knew his favorite drink, what he looked like when he first woke up, how he preferred energy weapons over anything else and even his middle name, but Craig Boone didn't know much about his family, where he came from or who he was before they came into each others lives. Felt like he was missing out on the stuff that probably didn't even matter.</p><p>"You talk a lot but don't say much."</p><p> </p><p>Surprise swept Arcade's features like he'd said something profound. Maybe he had. "Oh?" </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah." </p><p> </p><p>Arcade backed away, suddenly looking like he'd aged a life time just over a little sentence. Maybe the doc had done some fucked up shit too, maybe that's why he wasn't that scared of Boone. Lots of maybes.  "Why do we always have these conversations when one of us is under the influence." A fake laugh coming through Arcade and wiping his forehead despite it not being that warm. Stuffy sure, but not warm. And the tea made him drowsy sure, but not drowsy enough to not be able to talk all of a sudden. He didn't call him out on it though.</p><p>Boone could do another nice thing and let it go, but they'd been through too much to let him talk, all fancy in that way of his, out of it. Even having to stop Arcade with hands on his shoulders as he leaned in for a kiss, another route of distraction. Felt bad when he looked sad about it but it needed to be done. Clearing his throat before speaking as kind as he knew how. "Gannon." With a bite of his lips he questioned, not the first time, why words were always leaving when he needed them most. "Just tell me what it is, can't be worse than my stories."</p><p> </p><p>They sat up together, eyes locked through-out, Boone's hands falling to settle on Arcade's knees as the doctor settled back on the mattress a bit too far than he really needed too, looking like they were strangers again and that he was shit-scared of what was coming next. Feeling that he'd have to do the talking tonight, Boone leaned in, pressing foreheads together, and whispered. "Courier's not back for a few days, we got till then." <em>Don't push too hard.</em></p><p> </p><p>Arcade sniffed, and could hear the tears in his voice. "On the last day. We will." Not like him to leave things till last minute, but Boone accepted it with a nod, then ducked down for a small press of lips, tasting the bitter drink that lingered. Arcade didn't reciprocate though, despite wanting a kiss earlier.</p><p> </p><p>"Cat got your tongue, Gannon?"</p><p> </p><p>He laughed. "For once."</p><p> </p><p>Things will work out okay.</p>
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